NYMAG, SEX THERAPIST



I have a love-hate relationship with Nymag's Sex Diaries.

On the one hand, it's kind of a cool premise: live inside the horny heads of everyone from the 24-year-old hipster musician living in Williamsburg to the 51-year-old Wall Street guy.
Read and learn that in the end we all want our genitals licked. Repeatedly. By multiple sources—regardless of marriage or commitment.

I get it.

But sometimes the admissions make me slightly uncomfortable. Like the aforementioned Wall Street guy who insists on referring to masturbating as "stretching the little guy." Or the middle-aged boss who has very detailed blow job fantasies about most of the 20-something assistants in his office.

Editorials like this ruin it for the good-natured, married manager and father of three who really just wants me to know the third button on my blouse popped open.

You know, to help me avoid any future embarrassment.

He's a good guy.

Anyway, Nymag describes this as a "peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar." And this is perhaps why I've never been the type to live behind binoculars, read text messages that don't belong to me, or flip through personal journals.

I'd be more likely to quietly shut that door "left slightly ajar."

But I got to hand it to the good samaritans reading the column who slip on their Dr. Phil and Dr. Joyce Brothers hats and leave long-winded comments that range from sweet and sentimental, to downright surly. A few choice excerpts below:

"the character of men is most like that of a dog: loyal, will suffer any abuse, and still love you unconditionally. Women resemble cats: manipulative, capable of simulating love whenever it is opportune, and will sit perched on a chair while an intruder cuts your throat and steals your belongings. Then, when he's about to leave, rub up against his leg in hopes of getting a treat."

"Here's the thing, you are definitely not over your ex. You need to allow yourself to move on, when you say things like The Hold Steady are ruined for you because she mentioned the lead singer, you still have a whole lot of sentimental attachments, which are hindrances to moving on."

"This guy is like my compulsive masturbating, unmotivated, stoner twin."

It's really kind of sweet. Lord knows if I'd take the advice of someone hell bent on commenting on an anonymous, probably partially fictional, blog post, though.